In which the writer shows he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Paul was winning the game. And not just any game, mind you, but his favorite tv game: Know-it-all or Nothing! The quintessential quiz game where you answer trivial questions for lotsa money! Ξ“Yeeeess, sir!”Ξ Said the blurry-faced game host. Ξ“And we are now onto the final round!”Ξ HURRAY Cheered the echoes of an invisible crowd beyond. Ξ“With just 3 questions to go, our contestant has the chance to win the humble amount of…Ξ Roll drums. Ξ“1 million GRC!”Ξ WOO The crowd was excited.

Paul shivered in ecstatic anxiety behind his podium, his huge reptilian shape making the piece of furniture seem comically small as he clutched it with his claws. His emerald green feathers were puffing in waves again and again while he grinned a sharp row of saurian teeth, barely containing his eagerness to continue raking those sweet, sweet points, his four eyes fixed on the game host at the center of the stage. This was the first time in his life he was ever going to win something big, something meaningful, and to his delight, the game had been all about him!

Ξ“Are you ready to continue, Mr. Gutierrez?”Ξ Said the game host, sporting a stylish gray suit as its only meaningful feature. Ξ“Or would you rather give up your pursuit and go home with a brand new…”Ξ The echo gestured to its side and a light gave life to the holographic display of a… Ξ“Skyblazer EX Titan!”Ξ WOW The crowd gasped at the sight of the luxurious sports-type starship.

Paul’s heart bounced to his throat. He knew that starship. It was worth way more than a measly million GRC, and they were giving him the chance to have it instead?

Ξ“Take the ship! Take the ship!”Ξ Said the invicible echoes beyond.

Paul got nervous at the offer, feathers tensing up. It was a tempting prize, for sure, but it wasn’t a “win” in the whole technical sense of the word, and he wanted to win the final prize. Besides, something felt wrong about it.

Ξ“Take the ship! Take the ship!”Ξ Insisted the echoes. Ξ“Don’t be a coward!”Ξ Said one that felt too familiar for comfort.

Ξ“What’s it gonna be, Mr. Gutierrez? You only got 5 seconds to answer.”Ξ Pressured the game host.

Ξ“5…! 4…!”Ξ Went the crowd.

“I, uh…” Paul tried to think, gaze scattered in frantic indecision.

Ξ“3…! 2…!”Ξ

“No.” Something deep in his consciousness spoke for him, confronting the unrelenting pressure surrounding him.

Ξ“No, Mr. Gutierrez? Are you sure?”Ξ Said the game host.

BOO went the crowd against Paul. Ξ“YOU COWARD.”Ξ Said that familiar voice.

“I’m sure.” Said Paul with sudden restrain, feeling intimidated at the crowd’s sudden rejection. The peer pressure alone had reminded him of a time his “friends” convinced him to go on a not-so-legal adventure, many years ago, and that put a sour taste in his mouth.

Ξ“Very well! Onto the first question then!”Ξ The game host gestured again and the place changed mood, lights going dim and drums rolling in dramatic anticipation. Ξ“For 1 million GRC we ask you…”Ξ Dramatic pause.

Ξ“What is the nickname of the goose that terrorized your school’s backyard?”Ξ

“Hah! Easy.” Paul’s confidence returned with a smile. “Kneecapper.”

Ξ“CORRECTO MUNDO.”Ξ Said the game host, triggering the winning chime and the colorful lights that confirmed the answer. YEAH The crowd went wild.

Paul sighed with relief, his feathers relaxing again. He could still do this.

Ξ“Now for the next question…”Ξ Roll drums, please. Ξ“For 1 million GRC we ask you…”Ξ Dramatic pause.

Ξ“Did you ever know one Mr. Ortega and his “gang”, Mr. Gutierrez?”Ξ OOOH The crowd gasped.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Paul was taken aback. Those were his former “friends”, individuals he was not too pleased to remember because of what had happened with them, and for a moment he hesitated to answer. “No, no.” Rationalized a voice in his consciousness. “It’s the final round, so of course it’s gonna be difficult. But you got this, Paul, you got this.”

Ξ“You better not snitch, Paul!”Ξ Said a familiar voice amongst the invisible crowd beyond.

Paul averted his gaze, unsure what to say.

Ξ“You only need answer “yes” or “no”, Mr. Gutierrez.”Ξ Said the game host, its voice feeling more authorative. Ξ“For 1 million, do you know Mr. Ortega and his gang?”Ξ

There was a cold pause.

“Yes.” Said Paul, lowering his gaze.

Ξ“Correct.”Ξ Said the game host, but there were no cheers this time, only a growing pressure surrounding him (and the distant disappearing echo of a familiar voice accusing him of something).

Paul lost his confidence, limbs feeling heavy, tail dropped to the floor. This was beginning to feel like a different kind of event.

Ξ“Now, tell us, Mr. Gutierrez.”Ξ Said the host, its voice cold and authorative. Ξ“Where you with Mr. Ortega and his gang at the parking lot when they tried to steal Mr. Najera’s Skyblazer?”Ξ

Time slowed down as the words resonated through Paul’s consciousness, digging out memories he thought he would never have to relive again. “Yes…” He said with guilt, unaware of how his surroundings had begun to shift, feeling ever so closer, restrictive.

Ξ“Correct.”Ξ Said the host, taking out a bunch of photographs from its now black suit to throw non-chalantly on Paul’s podium, as the latter changed into a non-descript table, confirming his answer.

Paul looked in horror at the evidence that showed his young (blurry) self standing at a nearly empty parking lot, his (equally blur) recollection of his “friends” trying to pry open a Skyblazer starship owned by a local rich guy in an attempt to be “audacious”. It was a stupid idea, he knew (and he had told them so), but that night Ortega had gotten his hands on a supposed “skeleton key” for fancy starships and everyone agreed to try it out no matter what. Since he had no other friends back then, he went along with it after being pressured by the gang under penalty of “chicken tag” (a socially devastating punishment), only to be used as the scapegoat as soon as things turned south and the Agents got wind of their presence. He was left behind with the skeleton key in hand to be captured.

Ξ“We know you didn’t want to be a part of it, Mr. Gutierrez.”Ξ Said the Agent. Ξ“We have reviewed the records.”Ξ Then, it pointed at one of the pictures of the gang. Ξ“So, tell us where to find the others and Mr. Najera will let you go without charges.”Ξ

“Don’t answer.” Said a voice in his consciousness. “You are no snitch.” And Paul hesitated. “Uh, I-I…I don’t know.” He whispered while fidgeting with his feathers.

Ξ“What was that?”Ξ

“I don’t know.” He barely raised his voice, confused now.

BANG The Agent hit the desk to get his attention, startling him. Ξ“Bullshit, Mr. Gutierrez! I find it hard to believe you followed the others to this exact parking lot, at this exact hour, without knowing anything about them. How to meet them, how to find them.”Ξ

Paul recoiled in his spot, trying to diminish himself despite being a huge raptor towering over the memory of this intimidating Agent. He was just a teenager back then, after all.

Ξ“Where can we find them, Mr. Gutierrez?”Ξ

Paul still hesitated, unable to tell what was what anymore, heart beating fast and gaze darting everywhere and nowhere.

Ξ“Where can we find them, Mr. Gutierrez?”Ξ Insisted the Agent, its voice getting distorted.

Little by little he felt his surroundings getting consumed by the void in his consciousness, focusing the memory of the moment ever closer to the Agent itself, to its presence, to its pressure.

Ξ“Where can we find them, Mr. Gutierrez?”Ξ Echoed the Agent.

Paul clutched his head, unable to bring himself to answer. Not because he didn’t want to at this point, but because he genuinely didn’t remember that part of the memory now, as if it had been cut from his mind altogether.

Ξ“Mr. Gutierrez?”Ξ The Agent was consumed by the darkness, though Paul could still feel its presence. Ξ“Mr. Gutierrez…?”Ξ It’s voice was now further away.

Ξ“Mr. …errez?”Ξ

Then, the fear begun to wash away.

Ξ“[Mr. …rez?]”Ξ

Until he was just lost in the great expanse of the void within the consciousness, aware and yet not aware, his body rested and comfortable, “at peace” you could say. And he knew he was “in the now” despite not thinking about it.

Ξ“[Mr. …thers?]”Ξ

The dream-not-dream was over and so was the nightmare. Now, the only thing that remained was the certainty that he was still alive and returning to reality.

Ξ“[Mr. [Feathers]?]”Ξ

And with that certainty came the realization that he was currently laying on a hospital bed staring at the side, the gentle face of a raptorman gazing upon him with worry, calling to him.

“[Mr. [Feathers]?]” Said the Karnakian nurse yet again.

And Paul Potato Feathers regained full consciousness of his current lot in life.